


Livin Libraria Loca

by CGotAnAccount



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Getting Together, Librarian Shiro, Library AU, M/M, Pining, SHEITH - Freeform, Shiro is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 21:30:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21398962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CGotAnAccount/pseuds/CGotAnAccount
Summary: “I can get you a ladder...” Shiro steels himself and asks, “And in return?”Pidge smirks, instantly setting off alarm bells.“Nothing too big,” she assures him, waving a hand in the air. “I have this friend who is trying to finish his dissertation, but he's an adjunct at the local community college and gets pestered when he uses their library.”“Okay?” Shiro's brows furrow. “He can come here anytime he wants?”“That's the thing,” Pidge hedges, fingers splayed. “He's kinda... prickly? He'll probably want a quiet study room...” She trails off, one corner of her mouth lifting. “And maybe some of that good ol' Shirogane hospitality.”Shiro can feel his lips purse. “Like what, hello and goodbye like everyone gets?”She doesn't even twitch. “Yeah sure, that.”Or: Library shenanigans force Shiro into a Faustian bargain with his local gremlin.
Relationships: Allura & Shiro (Voltron), Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro
Comments: 57
Kudos: 298





	Livin Libraria Loca

It's all Shiro can do to contain the tapping of his fingers, loud against the laminate surface of the desk as the woman in front of him hems and haws and digs through her purse.

“I swear I have it, it's always been in here...” she grumbles as she tips it sideways, letting the contents spill and skitter across the space, wafting the vague scent of cat piss his way.

“Well ma'am, like I said before, you can always use your id to check out.” The words scrape out past the forcibly pleasant smile, and if she was looking she'd probably be offended by the fluttering of the muscle in his eye. “You don't need to go digging for your-”

“But I _know_ it's in here!” She turns the entire thing upside down and shakes, rattling out old tissues and coins that ping off the desk and clatter to the floor. “You can't force me to show you my address.”

Shiro sucks in a breath and lets his gaze drift over her head to the desk on the opposite wall where Allura currently has her entire fist shoved in her mouth to keep the ungainly snorts at bay. At least someone is enjoying this.

“Ma'am, your address is already in the system. I'm going to see it one way or another.”

The digging stop as she squints rheumy eyes up at him. “Are you threatening me with the deep state, boy?” She jabs one gnarled finger into his face and shakes. “I know all about it, I heard it on my programs, don't think you can get one past me.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Shiro drones, trying his best to dissociate himself back into bed with Black. “Did you look on your keys?”

“Why would I do _that_,” the woman snarls, squinting at him as the bony appendage trembles. “You just want to steal a copy!”

He does not let out the bone deep sigh screaming to escape.

“You get two keyring copies of the card when you get the big card.” He is so, so tired. “When we replaced your card last week we put them on your keys.”

She scowls at him and fishes her keys from their zippered pocket, squinting at the two identical barcodes swaying merrily next to her flag printed house keys.

“If you knew where it was why didn't you just say so?”

The desk across from him makes a noise curiously close to a dying animal as a head of white hair sinks below it, trembling in laughter.

“Lucky guess ma'am.” Shiro reaches out to snag the keys before she can change her mind and scans the barcode, sliding them back before grabbing her book – _How to know if your neighbor is a Communist_ \- and checking it out. “Would you like a receipt?”

“Don't think you can keep it from me, boy.” Her lips press into a thin line as she scoops the contents of the desk back into the abyss of her bag – minus the used tissues of course. “If I don't you'll change the due date and charge me fines.”

The printer screeches out the sounds Shiro wishes he could be making as it spits out her slip.

“We don't have late fees ma'am, just bring it back and you'll be fine.”

She snatches the paper and stomps away, grumbling something that makes the kid shelving near the door stare in disbelief.

The sweet green child is still new here.

Shiro finally lets the sigh escape as he reaches under the desk for the well used box of rubber gloves, snapping one on to throw out the tissues and a mostly dead bug.

“You can come out now,” he calls across the the desk where wispy white hairs are still trembling with the force of Allura's suppressed laughter. “Don't think I didn't see how suddenly busy you were when Gladys walked in.”

“I'm sorry Shiro,” Allura wheezes out, wiping away tears of mirth. “I couldn't take her again after last week. We'd get sued.”

“And somehow I'm the better candidate for suffering?” He throws her a look as he peels off the rubber glove, but doesn't press the point. “You're on toenail duty now.”

The way her face blanches is almost worth it.

“But I had to check yesterday,” she wheedles, eyeing the DVD stacks like their gross bandit will come lumbering out at any moment. “And I had to scrub the cheese off the wall last week!”

“Gla-dys,” Shiro sing-songs, wiggling his fingers at the trash with a grin. “Unless you want to take her indefinitely.”

Allura chews on her bottom lip for a moment, eyes darting between the trash and the stacks of DVDs waiting.

Shiro can see the moment the last bit of hope in her eyes is extinguished.

“Fine.” She slumps, thrusting a hand out for a pair of gloves that he procures from under the desk again. “But we're switching next week.”

“Fine,” Shiro parrots with a smile. “You are the boss, after all.”

“Doesn't feel like it,” she grumbles as she snaps them on, heaving a deep breath before stomping off into the shelves.

Shiro waits, grin creeping with each passing second until he hears the muted groan of disgust. “Find them alright?” He calls into the stacks, sweet as can be. “Should I send a rescue crew?”

He can hear her stomping back seconds before she emerges, one closed fist held away from her body while the other covers her mouth.

“I'm going to vomit,” she mumbles, opening her hand over the garbage and letting the yellowed nails sprinkle into the bin. “Worse than last week.”

“Maybe we should leave some anti fungal cream over there next week?” Shiro smirks, pulling up their disruptive activity log to add to their toenail clipping record. “Or maybe just leave a trash can in the middle of the aisle.”

“We have sandwich board sized posters with the code of conduct printed on it, if that's not enough of a hint that leaving toenail shavings isn't alright then I don't think a trash can is going to help.” The struggle of getting the soiled glove off without actually touching it adds a growl to the end of her words. “I for one am advocating for hiding in the aisle with a baseball bat.”

“Ah yes,” Shiro hums, nodding. “Direct, I like it.”

“I thought you would,” she grunts, triumphant as she finally manages to rip the glove off with a tissue. “Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go bathe in sanitizer and take my lunch.”

“Have fun,” Shiro chirps, innocent as can be. “Don't order anything crunchy.”

The middle finger aimed his way is well deserved.

Two weeks later finds them no closer to catching the culprit than they were when they first found the mysterious scatterings of body shavings that sprinkle their floor like the world's most disgusting pixie dust, and Shiro is getting desperate.

“Katie, I need your help.”

The resident gremlin spins around in her chair, glasses flashing and fingers steepled.

“Well, well...” she drawls, smirk creeping across her baby face. “If it isn't the Golden Boy coming to make a Faustian bargain.”

“Really?” Shiro sighs, flicking on the lights in her office. “Didn't Matt get you to stop watching all those awful old movies with the mustache twirling villains?”

She pouts, arms crossing. “First of all, those movies are great, and Matt's an idiot.” Shiro waffles his hand, ready to agree to half of that as she plows on. “And secondly, you should've come back here weeks ago when this mess first started.”

Shiro cocks his head at her. “You already know what I want?”

“Shiro, please,” she sighs, jerking a thumb behind her at the seven monitors running various automated programs and security screens. “I've had the cataloging tasks running on a script for months – I've got nothing to do but watch you guys suffer all day.”

He blinks at her. “Well that's...”

“Taking initiative? Being aware of operational needs? I know, put it on my performance eval, you know – the one that says Pidge and not Katie.”

“I was going to say creepy, but that too I suppose, _Pidge_.” Shiro shakes his head and peers at the video feed behind her head. “So, what can you do for me then?”

“I can put in a couple cameras over there, we still have a few open feeds to fill.” She shoves her glasses up the bridge of her nose and spins back around to poke at the screen. “See right now we have a dead zone there where the other two nearby fields don't quite overlap to catch the desk and exit.” She swipes to a blank grey square and pulls up a blueprint. “If I put one right here at the end of the aisles it could get a straight shot that would let you identify whoever it is... then you can toss em out, right?”

“That's the plan,” Shiro agrees, impressed and a little horrified at how many times she might have caught him adjusting himself or trying for a subtle armpit sniff check on a hot day. “So how soon can it be done?”

“Probably a day or two.” She shrugs, pointing to a box of assorted wires. “I already have the cameras, I just need a taller ladder.”

Shiro contains his snicker, nodding dutifully. “I can get you a ladder...” He steels himself and asks, “And in return?”

Pidge smirks, instantly setting off alarm bells.

“Nothing too big,” she assures him, waving a hand in the air. “I have this friend who is trying to finish his dissertation, but he's an adjunct at the local community college and gets pestered when he uses their library.”

“Okay?” Shiro's brows furrow. “He can come here anytime he wants?”

“That's the thing,” Pidge hedges, fingers splayed. “He's kinda... prickly? He'll probably want a quiet study room...” She trails off, one corner of her mouth lifting. “And maybe some of that good ol' Shirogane hospitality.”

Shiro can feel his lips purse. “Like what, hello and goodbye like everyone gets?”

She doesn't even twitch. “Yeah sure, that.”

Shiro sighs, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose, hoping the cool metal will ease the oncoming headache. “Alright, fine... who am I making the reservation for?”

“Don't worry about that.” Pidge waves him off. “You'll know when you see him.”

“Oookaaaay?” He shakes his head and resigns himself to being at the whims of the tiny Napoleon for the foreseeable future. “Thanks Pidge, I appreciate it.”

She spins her back to him, chuckling low.

“Oh Shiro, don't thank me yet.”

Cameras in place and stern face ready, Shiro heads into the next week with the hopes that they can be done with this particularly unappealing saga quickly.

Unfortunately, things never seem to go to plan.

“I don't get it.” He grunts, scowling at the clean spot of carpet. “Did they just stop because of the camera? Are they clipping somewhere else now?”

“Does it really matter?” One of the volunteers, a high school kid not much taller than Pidge, asks from where she's filing more DVDs. “At least you don't have to clean it.”

“That's true,” Shiro concedes, throwing her a smile that tinges her cheeks pink. “But I would like to have some closure on this, and maybe put a face to the toenails.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah.” Shiro huffs a laugh as she wrinkles her nose. “And I bet you thought I got to read all day.”

“Uhm, hello, anyone.” A voice huffs from the direction of the desk.

Shiro doesn't bother to resist the urge to roll his eyes as he turns and waves back to her over his shoulder. “Duty calls.”

He can hear her snickering as he strolls back to the desk, plastering on his best customer service face for the man at the counter.

“Can I help you?”

“I hope so.” The man grunts, hefting a briefcase onto the counter. “I need a room.”

Lips pursing of their own accord, Shiro takes in the man's tweed jacket and elbow patches - completed by the bowtie that sits right around his reedy throat. He would make even Matt and Pidge look cool...

_Oh._

“Ah, I see.” Shiro clears his throat and tries to makes his smile less brittle. “Well good morning.”

“Yeah, good morning. The room?” The man doesn't even look him in the eye as he fiddles with his watch and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

It doesn't bother Shiro one bit, not at all.

“Sure. Let me just unlock it.” Grabbing his keys, he heads over to the west wall – his favorite for watching the sunset – and goes to unlock one of the doors.

“No, not that one.”

The keys - that definitely don't grind in the fist which has clearly not clenched around them - will hopefully not be picked up by the cameras that may or may not have audio.

He heaves a breath in before turning around, smile firmly in place. “Sure. Do you have a preference?”

“Not somewhere with the sun, that's for sure.” The man rolls his eyes, tapping away on his phone now. “I have work to do.”

“Certainly.” Shiro grits out, wandering over to the gloomy room in the north corner with the heavy shades. “Here you go.”

The man brushes by him without so much as a thank you and shuts the door.

He spends the walk back to his desk reminding himself he owes Pidge and hasn't had to clean up toenails in days.

When he gets to his desk Allura appears to be faking a conversation on the telephone that hasn't worked for months as the most gorgeous man Shiro's ever seen waits patiently at his desk.

She winks as he nearly trips over his feet to get there.

“C-can I help you?” Shiro's voice is too loud, he can tell by her wince, but it doesn't matter when the guy turns to smile at him up close. Big doe eyes blink up at him, framed by shaggy dark hair like an ink spill that brushes the collar of his leather jacket.

“Oh, uh, hi.” The guy clears his throat and looks down at the desk before looking back up at Shiro with a swoop of long eyelashes across his cheeks. “I uh, I was wondering if you had anywhere quiet.” Those cheeks bloom to red as the guy stutters over his words with a wince. “I- I mean, it's a library, the whole place is probably quiet... I meant I-”

“No, I got it.” Shiro chuckles, shaking his head as he looks out over the stacks. “It's surprisingly distracting in here sometimes.” He turns back to smile at the poor guy, who's now hunched with his shoulders nearly to his ears. “Would you like a private study room to spread out?”

“Oh, yeah.” The guy blinks at him, smile easing back onto his face as he shrugs the backpack slung over his shoulder. “That would be great actually.”

“Great.” Shiro beams at him and wanders back over to the west wall, suddenly glad Pidge's friend didn't want his favorite room. “This one's my favorite, but you can pull the shades when the sun sinks if you need to.”

“Oh, wow.” The guy stares at the view from the window and the comfy chair Shiro had dragged in for his own personal use. “Thanks man, this is really great, I bet the sunset will be phenomenal.”

“Yeah.” Shiro croaks, already imagining what he'll look like limned in the rosy-orange colors as he does his rounds later to check in. “If you need anything I'll be right up there, my name's Shiro.”

The guy turns from the window and sticks his hand out, grasping Shiro's in a firm shake. “Keith. Thanks again.”

“Yeah.” Shiro's helpless against the sigh, apparently incapable of intelligent human conversation. “Bye.”

Keith huffs out a laugh and lets go, slinging his bag onto the table.

“Bye Shiro.”

Shiro doesn't remember shutting the door or walking back to his desk, but Allura's raised eyebrow over the top of her travel mug of tea certainly yanks him back into reality.

“Did you have a nice trip to cloud nine, Shiro?” She smirks over the rim as her nails tap the side. “It seems our private rooms are seeing some use today.”

“Well,” Shiro sputters, cheeks heating. “That is what they're there for.”

“Of course.” She takes a sip and eyes him with not a small amount of judgment. “I'm sure Pidge will be happy to know you're getting along with her friend.”

Settling into his chair with a grunt, Shiro pulls up the schedule and blocks off the two rooms.

“Yeah, that's one way to put it.”

“Oh?” The frequency of the nail tapping increases. “I thought you two might get along a bit better?”

Shiro thinks of the door being slammed in his face, then about Keith's smile and utter lack of hesitation to shake his hand, and shrugs.

“You know, we get patrons of all sorts, I try to stay professionally neutral.”

“Uh huh,” she drawls, going in for the kill. “Even when they look like they walked in from the set of a James Dean movie?”

Shiro studiously ignores her for the rest of the night.

Unfortunately, Pidge isn't so easy to hide from.

“So,” she prods, both literally and figuratively as she pokes at Shiro's calf and sends him wobbling on the step ladder where he's shelving. “What do you think?”

He clutches for dear life at the edge of the stack and sighs down at her.

“About what?”

She rolls her eyes.

“About my friend.”

Shiro shrugs, grabbing another book and staring intently at the row ahead of him, like there isn't a perfect book shaped hole where it goes. “He seems okay.” He slots the book into its place and snatches up the next without looking at her. “Busy guy.”

He can tell without looking that her eyes are narrowed, making the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

“That's it?” She huffs, sounding oddly disappointed for someone whose friend is receiving perfectly acceptable service despite being a total dickwad. “I thought you two might hit it off.”

That makes him fumble the book in his hands.

“You- what?” Shiro peers down at her, incredulous. “Was this your attempt at a set up?”

Pidge hunches in on herself, suddenly defensive as she pokes at his knee again. “You don't have to say it like that!” Her lower lip pokes out in a way that makes her look exactly as young as she is. “Matt and I thought you could use someone.”

Shiro's eyebrows raise to his hairline.

“Matt thought he was my type?” He thinks of the guy's aggressive blandness and tweed suit, comparing it to the brilliant smiles Keith throws his way every day and the way the leather jacket and jeans hug him like a second skin. “Katie...”

She scowls up at him. “Don't 'Katie' me just because you like vanilla boys or whatever.” Her ratty sneakers scuff the carpet as she shuffles her feet. “Matt swore up and down you like em little.”

Birdlike is the adjective that Shiro might have used for that guy. Not at all lean or compact or filled with wiry strength like he likes... like some other people are.

“I mean...” Shiro hedges, clutching back onto the shelf in case Pidge decides to send him tumbling. “Little isn't really the right word, but really, don't worry about me.” He shoots a look over to the west wall where the sun is just starting to throw orange light through the windows. “I'm not as hopeless as you guys think.”

Pidge lets out an aggrieved sigh and starts to slink away.

“You're exactly as hopeless as we think.”

Shiro feels something like a twinge of annoyance at the parting shot, something like a challenge.

Something that he might just need to prove wrong enough to rub in their faces... as a friend, of course.

Fortunately for the delicate state of his situation, the ability to remain cheerful toward someone he doesn't particularly like is the first required qualification for his job, and he can fulfill it like no other.

Shiro becomes aggressively friendly to the rude friend when he comes in, naturally. He asks if he needs whiteboard markers, if things are going well today, he bids him a good night, he stops by on his rounds to make sure everything is going alright...

And, well... if he stops by to check on one patron in a room, he really can't show favoritism and should probably check on all of them.

The perfunctory one minute stop on rude man becomes the precursor to his favorite part of the rounds; the ten minutes he spends leaning in Keith's door chatting about the weather, Keith's dissertation, the kids in his classes, their favorite types of coffee, Keith's dog Kosmo, Shiro's cat Black, how they both love fall but hate the pitying looks you get when you want to do fun coupley things alone...

Shiro feels like he's known him his entire life - feels like he'd like to spend the rest of it getting to know him better.

“Sooo,” he drawls as casually as can be after they've reached a pause in their conversation. “I was wondering if you wanted to go as my 'I'm not a loser buddy' to the orchard this weekend to go apple picking.”

He can feel his heart thudding in his throat as Keith blinks at him in surprise.

“Oh wow, really?” A smile unfurls across his face before he glances back down at his notes and cringes. “I mean, shit... I'd love to, but I've got to defend this in like two weeks and I'm not even close to done and- maybe I could? But-” He looks miserable as he flicks between the pile of messy notes and Shiro's face, clearly torn.

“Hey, no it's fine,” Shiro soothes, reaching out to plant a hand on Keith's hunched shoulder. “It doesn't have to be now, there'll be apples after you're done.”

Keith relaxes under his touch, tipping his chin up to look at Shiro with the edges of a pout.

“But what if it frosts and the apples die?”

Shiro shrugs, letting out a chuckle at Keith's best approximation of a sad cat.

“Then we can go look at the holiday lights when they go up, it's doesn't matter to me as long as I get to go with you, right?.”

Keith's smile is sweet and tentative as he looks back to his pile, the tips of his ears dusting with color.

“Yeah, you know, that sounds nice too.” He glances back up to Shiro through his lashes and brings a hand up to cover Shiro's where it still rests on his shoulder. “Thanks, Shiro. It'll be nice to have someone to uh... do stuff with this year.”

Shiro can feel the corners of his eyes crinkling as he beams down at Keith and lets himself squeeze once before drawing back.

“Of course, Keith, anytime.... You know there's no one else I'd rather go with.” Keith's eyes widen and Shiro fumbles, feeling like he might've come on a little too strong. “I- I mean...”

“I wouldn't want to go with anyone else either, Shiro.” Keith cuts him off, leaning into his space. “We can go anywhere.”

“Yeah?” Shiro squeaks out, swallowing hard. “Then um... it's a date? For whenever?”

“Yeah.” Keith bites his lip hard, adorable and glowing as the evening sun streams through the window behind him. “It's a date.”

“Cool.” Shiro nods, standing awkwardly for a moment before he remembers he's supposed to be doing his job and turns to go look out at the desk. “I should ah, get back to work though... nice um... talking, I'll see you... yeah.”

And then he shuts the door on Keith's blushing face and power walks back to his desk, like a professional.

“Should I count that as your break, Shiro?” Allura simpers from the other desk, eyebrows wiggling in a way he's certain she learned from her weird boyfriend. “I've never seen you come back so cheery and relaxed... should I be worried about the upholstery?”

“_Allura.” _Shiro hisses, glaring around to see if anyone heard. “Shut. Up.”

“Hmm, guess not.” She laughs, spinning her chair in a circle to squint out across the floor. “I guess Pidge's plan is working then?”

“What?” Shiro balks, face twisting at the idea. “No. I was talking to Keith.”

Allura blinks at him, head cocked.

“Yes?”

“So...” Shiro sputters, marching over to the safety of his computer screen. “So _no_ to Pidge's plan. I don't need Pidge's plan, I can handle myself.”

“Huh.”

He risks ducking out from the safety of his monitor to glare at her.

“What.”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head and goes back to clacking away on her keyboard, reaching for the cart of books to be weeded. “Nothing at all.”

“Yeah,” Shiro grumbles, pulling up his own email inbox – overflowing, of course, because a man can't walk away for fifteen minutes without coming back to find eight different crises. “Nothing is right.”

“Pardon?”

Shiro startles at the voice in front of him, peeking out from his screen to find the rude man staring at him.

“Uh, nothing.” He plasters on his customer service smile again and reminds himself he loves Pidge. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, actually.” The man laughs, like it's some great joke that he might need help, shaking his head as he looks at Shiro. “I've decided to take you up on your advances.”

“My what?” Shiro gapes at him, flicking his gaze over to Allura who shrugs behind his back. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

“No need to be shy.” The man brushes him off and sets his briefcase on the table, snapping it open to retrieve a typed schedule. “I've made you a list of acceptable locations and times for our date, since you appear to be incapable of committing to an action yourself.”

“I'm sorry, _what?_” Shiro darts another look over to Allura, who gazes on in horrified interest with a bewildered shake of her head. “I haven't asked you out, sir.”

“I'm aware.” The man rolls his eyes, tone growing sharper as he stares Shiro down like he's an idiot. “But your interest is obvious, and you clearly knew who I was. I can't blame you for being too shy to do so.”

“Uhh...” Shiro attempts to blink his best S.O.S. across the desk to where Allura is scrambling to shrug off the fluffy cardigan and get her best intimidation blazer and game face on. “I think we've had a misunderstanding here sir, I don't know who you are, only that you're a friend of Pidge.”

“Who on earth is Pidge.” The man's face wrinkles like he's smelled something particularly unpleasant. “I don't know what you're insinuating, but I don't associate with Pidge's.”

“Pidge... Katie Holt?” Shiro practically squeaks, eyes locked on Allura as she rounds the edge of the desk and strides over. “Aren't you her friend?”

“Playing dumb doesn't suit you.” The man shakes his head and slaps the paper on the counter. “I'll leave this here for when you decide you're done being childish.”

“You won't, actually.” Allura chimes in from behind, arms crossed and towering over him in her heels. “That constitutes harassment of staff and is in direct violation of our code of conduct, which is posted in quite a few places.”

The man recoils from her look of utter disdain and snatches the paper with a huff.

“I was merely being kind and returning his interest.” He flicks a look to Shiro's scar, then his arm. “I understand you must be unused to this.”

“Unused to terrible people abusing our staff?” Allura snorts, checking her nails. “No, we get your type in here regularly.”

“See if I ever come here again,” he mutters, straightening his jacket. “I pay your salary with my taxes!”

“So do we.” Allura's voice is sweet as honey as she flicks her fingers toward the door. “If you have an issue with our services feel free to leave a comment card on my desk.”

She holds her icy smile until the man slinks out, then whirls on Shiro.

“You thought _he_ was Pidge's friend?”

Shiro does not appreciate the judgment in her tone.

“How was I supposed to know?” He drags a hand through his hair and tugs. “She said he was a professor and I'd know when he walked in – look at that guy, he screams nerdy loser!”

“Oh my god, Shiro.” Allura shakes her head. “No wonder why you were so opposed to her meddling.”

“Well you would be too if you thought your friend was trying to set you up with that,” Shiro huffs, defensive as he crosses his arms. “I've been nice to that douchebag for weeks because I thought I owed her.”

Allura throws him a pitying look.

“She is going to have a field day with this one, you know.”

“We don't have to tell her.” Shiro whines, aiming for pathetic enough to get out of the upcoming smug-a-thon. “She'll never have to know that her friend never showed up either.”

“Oh, Shiro.” Allura shakes her head and points to the camera aimed at his desk. “You sweet little thing.”

He lets his head thunk onto the table.

The smugness ends up being easier to bear than the righteous indignation.

“You thought I tried to set you up with _that guy_?” Pidge wheezes, playing back the tapes on loop to catch every look of horrified discomfort and sleaze in the frame. “Look at him! He's like half rat, half bird, all dickwad.”

“I'm aware.” Shiro groans through the palm over his face. “I've had to be extra nice to him for the past several weeks.”

“No you didn't.” Pidge corrects as she jabs him in the side with an elbow so he doesn't miss the absolute grimace on his past self's face. “You assumed you had to be nice, don't you know what they say about assuming?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro growls, swatting away her prodding fingers. “It's not my fault you didn't even tell me who your friend was, or that he never even showed up.”

Pidge spins in her seat to stare at him in disbelief.

“Are you being serious with me right now?”

He's getting really sick of people looking at him like that.

“Uh, yeah?” He squints at her, unwilling to break the stare down. “Nobody else came in asking for you, or about you or anything.”

Pidge's lips thin out as the muscle below her left eye begins to flutter.

“And nobody else needed a room?” She presses, leaning into his space until he can see himself reflected in her lenses. “No quiet professor types?”

“No.” She narrows her eyes and he squints back, amending his statement. “Nobody other than Keith.”

Pidge throws her hands into the air with a crow of triumph, startling Shiro so badly he nearly bites his tongue off.

“Other than Keith, he says!” Pidge cackles, pulling up the messenger to ping Matt. “Other than Keith – like Keith wasn't the whole fucking point!”

“He- what?” Shiro stares at her, slack jawed as she scrolls all the way up in her chat log. “Keith is _my_ friend.”

“Uh huh.” She hiccups a laugh with enough condescension that it might've pushed Shiro over the edge in any other circumstance. “Here, look.”

There staring back at him is a selfie of Pidge with her arm thrown around a disgruntled Keith's neck, with a giant dog smushed between their knees.

“That's Keith.” Shiro blurts out, utterly dumbstruck. “And Kosmo.”

“Good job, big guy.” She keeps scrolling to Matt's response, clearing her throat and reading with her best nerd voice. “Oh definitely Shiro's type. Send him in, he'll knock him dead.”

“You...” Shiro wheezes out, eyes locked on the screen at Keith's cheek pressed against Pidge's. “You set me up.”

“Yeah, duh.” She pats his knee and closes down her screens. “You're welcome.”

“But...” Shiro turns to pout at her. “I asked him out myself... I didn't need your help.”

Her grin softens at his defeated tone.

“Don't worry dude, you did all the work.” She punches him on the shoulder. “We just got him in here, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Shiro nods, offering her a smile. “Thanks for trying to help... even if it was half blackmail and terrible.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Pidge waves him off. “Save your thanks for when you let me do the AV work at your wedding.”

Shiro huffs a laugh and hauls himself to his feet.

“Sure Pidge.” He throws a fond look out onto the floor before turning away. “I'll see you later, I've got some dates to plan.”

Pidge can't stop the half maniacal chuckle as he practically bounces away, waiting until he's gone to reach into her desk drawer. Nor can she help but grimace at the baggie filled to the brim with Matt's old toenail clippings, gagging as she unzips it and dumps them into the trash.

“Guess I won't be needing these anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> Pidge's longcon: Playing 'Never Gonna Give You Up' at their wedding.
> 
> Keith's longcon: Genuinely enjoying the song and crooning it to Shiro as they spin around on the dance floor as husbands.


End file.
